The Office: The Lost Footage
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Jim and Pam navigate their first dates. My take on scenes we didn't get to see between "The Job" and "Fun Run". Fluffy, romantic, sexy fun. Rated T/M for adult situations. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1: First Date

**A/N: I'm embarrassed to admit that this summer was the first time I ever really watched ****_The Office_****, but once I started, I binged my way through all nine seasons in a week. And like Jim and Pam, I fell hopelessly in love. I haven't been inspired to write for a long time, but I felt the need to fill in the blanks between the Season 3 finale, "The Job" (when Jim asked Pam out) and Season 4 premiere, which took place a couple months later. I was sorry we missed seeing their first few dates, their first mutual "I love you's", their first time making love. So now, for my own entertainment, I am presenting my dream of how it might have been. I hope you like it.**

**_The Office_****: The Lost Footage**

**Chapter 1: First Date**

Up in his bedroom, Jim jumped at the sudden knock at his front door. Looking down at his well-worn t-shirt with the hole near the seam of his right sleeve, he momentarily panicked. Hadn't he been clear that he would pick Pam up for their date? It was still an hour before he had promised to be there.

_Jesus, Halpert, chill._

Heart gently pounding, he trotted down the stairs to answer the door.

Instead of Pam, it was a member of the documentary film crew—Brian.

"Oh, hey," Jim said, relief washing over him. But then he realized why the guy was there. Well, the large camera Brian held was also a big clue. During the day, Brian was normally the boom operator, but the release form they all signed at the office allowed the crew to film after hours if two or more employees were involved, or just one, if the employee didn't mind, but often they sent only a cameraman to cover small get-togethers. Jim's heart sank. The last thing he wanted was a third wheel on his first date with Pam.

"Drew the short straw, eh?" said Jim tightly.

"Yeah, guess so. I'll just film you getting ready, then ride along with you to wherever—"

Jim held up a hand. "Look man, can you please give me a break on this tonight?" He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and drew out his wallet. "I will pay you—shit, twenty bucks. But consider that a down payment. I'll give you eighty more tomorrow; apparently I needed to go to the ATM anyway…"

Brian got it completely—it was _Pam_. Still, his hands were tied.

"Wish I could help you, but the whole crew saw you asking her out. You know they're gonna want to see this."

Jim frowned, and he thought fleetingly of how he could ditch him. He sighed, knowing he wouldn't do that; that kind of behavior was reserved for Dwight. It sucked being a nice guy sometimes.

"Look, just tell them I said we cancelled, ok? I'll take full responsibility if they ever find out. If you don't film anything, there's no proof, right?" Jim grinned conspiratorially.

Brian looked away a moment, considering. Like it or not, he'd become invested in this burgeoning relationship he'd observed for the better part of four years. He was rooting for both of them, and was probably just as happy as Pam had been when Jim had nonchalantly asked her out earlier that afternoon. Part of him wanted to see the story unfold even more than the producers.

Shaking his head at his own romantic musings, Brian sighed. "Ok, fine."

He held out his hand, and Jim raised an amused eyebrow before ruefully slapping the twenty into the man's palm.

"But I want the rest tomorrow," Brian said. "No footage means no overtime pay."

Jim grinned. "Hey, thanks man. I definitely owe you—much more than eighty," he finished meaningfully.

"A _hundred_ and eighty?"

Jim chuckled. "Depends on how well the date goes."

"Good luck," said Brian sincerely, and Jim watched him a moment as he walked back to his car, loaded the camera in the trunk, and drove away. Jim closed the door and went back into his house. His eyes rested a moment on the clock on the wall. With an internal jolt, Jim sprang into action. He wasn't nearly ready, he realized, and now he had to stop at the bank.

"This had better be worth it, Beesly," he said to himself as he took the stairs two at a time.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pam had problems of her own: half of her wardrobe was strung out on her bed. With only a half-hour till Jim got there, she stood in her closet in only her bra and panties, hopelessly indecisive. His text earlier had offered her little help.

_I'll pick you up at 7._

_Cool. Where are we going? I mean, should I wear something…classy?_

_You always look classy._

_Very smooth. But could you narrow it down for me? Dressy classy or casual classy?_

_Casual classy. _

_Ok, but how casual? What are you wearing?_

_You mean right now? Are you sexting me Beesly? _

_Nevermind. I'll figure it out._

_Because if we're sexting, let me at least buy you dinner first. I'm kinda old-fashioned like that._

_Just stop, lol. I'll see you at 7._

_Yes, you will. ALL of me._

She'd laughed at that, then blushed furiously, grateful no one was there to see how flustered his teasing had made her. He'd actually asked her to dinner, said it was a date. The tone of his text hadn't sounded like he was about to tell her he had gotten the job in New York. On the contrary, the way he'd acted earlier in the doorway of the conference room, he'd tried to sound casual, but she knew better, knew when he was trying to play it cool. Plus, he'd never asked her out before, not really. Sure, they'd grabbed a friendly lunch from time to time over the years, had even eaten grilled cheese on the office roof and later called it a date. But this was definitely different. She wasn't with Roy anymore, and Karen was nowhere to be found. Sharing this particular meal didn't come with the safety net of an innocent office friendship.

Pam's heart told her this date was the beginning of something life-altering, and she didn't want to be inappropriately dressed for the occasion.

Xxxxxxxxxx

In the end, she'd gone with an emerald green dress she had bought to wear to the office, though when she'd gotten it home, she'd realized the neckline was too low for her usual modesty. It had been waiting in her closet for something special, and now, she couldn't wait for Jim to see her in it. Maybe subconsciously, she had saved it for him. She stood before her full-length mirror, taking deep, calming breaths, her attention drawn to her gently sloping décolletage. She flushed a little as she imagined him looking at her there. Her hair hung around her face, and she was pleased with the result, having taken the extra time to smooth her natural curls into shining waves. She admitted to herself that she looked pretty damn good, and hoped Jim thought the same.

Her doorbell rang at precisely seven o'clock, and she slipped on her low black heals before forcing herself to walk slowly to the door. The look in Jim's eyes as he swept his hazel gaze from her face to her breasts and hurriedly back up again made the curling iron burn on her finger totally worth it.

"Hey," he said softly, his cheeks tinged pink. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied, giving him her brightest smile. He wore his nicest suit, sans tie, and her eyes rested on the tan triangle below his Adam's apple. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him there, how he would taste. God knows he smelled amazing. She reached up and brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen from his carefully combed new haircut. How many times had she longed to touch his hair over the years, how when he'd kissed her almost a year ago, her hands had immediately delved into the soft, brown hair at his nape.

"I like job-interview-Jim hair," she said. "It makes you look…" As she hesitated, one thick brow rose in anticipation of her adjective choice. "Professional," she finished lamely. What she really wanted to say was something along the lines of _tantalizingly_ _masculine, mature, sexy_. His other eyebrow rose to meet its mate.

"Don't get me wrong," she amended hastily, "I like messy-hair-Jim, but there's something to say about this guy."

She lowered her hand, trying to control its slight tremor as she inadvertently touched his warm cheek. He caught her hand and met her eyes, his smoky now with a sudden flare of desire.

"And there's definitely something to say about outside-the-office-Pam." He brought her hand to his lips in a gallant gesture few men these days could pull off.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she looked at him. God, how she loved him, how she wanted him. It was so nice to be able to admit that to herself. Soon, she would admit it to him.

"You ready?" he asked hoarsely, after a moment of silent communion. He cleared his throat, stepped back and dropped her hand self-consciously.

Was he reading her mind? Was she ready to voice her feelings for him?

"Pam?"

"Oh, yeah. The restaurant. Let me grab my sweater and purse."

The silence in the car was not exactly awkward, but filled with unspoken feelings, tentative happiness, sexual awareness. It wasn't unpleasant. Jim parked his Corolla in front of Casa Bella, the best Italian place in town.

"Great place," she said, as he met her at her door, held it open for her. His eyes narrowed.

"You've been here before, with uh—"

"No," she said. "Roy hates Italian food, not counting pizza, I guess."

He grinned. "That's too bad."

"Yeah, his loss."

"Hm," he replied noncommittally, but she knew he was pleased that he had picked a place that didn't have any residual memories for either of them. Although it was the middle of the week, the place was packed, but Jim had thoughtfully made a reservation, and the hostess seated them immediately. Over warm focaccia and wine, Pam asked him about the elephant in the room.

"I turned down the job," he told her. "It wasn't for me."

"Oh," she said, focusing on dipping her bread in olive oil so he wouldn't catch her relieved expression. "Sorry."

He laughed. "Now that didn't sound convincing. No need to be sorry; it was the right decision."

She met his eyes and let him see her pleasure at his words, but there still was another, dark-haired, petite elephant to deal with.

"And so, Karen…?"

"She didn't get the job either. And she's not too happy with me right now, since

I-well _we_—broke up before I left New York."

Pam's heart gave a mighty thump, and he covered her hand before she could reach again for the communal round loaf between them. "That was the right decision too," he said.

"I _am_ truly sorry for that, Jim. I like Karen. It's always sad when a relationship ends."

He shrugged. "I was just fooling myself. Fooling her too, I guess, and I really feel bad about that. It wasn't fair to stay with her, especially here in Scranton, when I'm still in love with someone else."

His thumb massaged her knuckles on the table, and he looked meaningfully into her eyes.

"She's a very lucky girl," Pam whispered. "Jim, I—"

"Excuse me," said the waitress, bearing their salads. They reluctantly moved their hands and sat back, each with racing pulses and shaking limbs.

"Thanks," said Jim, smiling at the girl, who blushed at his attention. Meredith was right: he did look sexy hot with his hair this way.

"Your entrees will be out soon." She left them with a smile of her own, but Jim was already re-focused on Pam.

Before digging into her Caesar, Pam took a fortifying drink of red wine. Jim watched in amusement as she finished the glass. He picked up the bottle he'd ordered and refilled it.

"Trying to get me drunk, Halpert?"

"Not at all. It's always more fun when your date can stay in her chair."

"Funny."

"Nervous?" he dared ask.

"Yes. You?"

He nodded. "Terrified. I feel like I'm in high school, and not the acne and voice cracking fun. More like the sweaty palms, nervous stomach kind of fun."

She grinned. "I'm reliving my own awkward, captain of the football team talking to the band nerd moment."

"_Basketball_ team," he corrected her, because he remembered Roy had played football in high school.

"Yeah." She knew what he was really meant, and his flash of possessiveness made her feel almost giddy.

Jim finished his own glass, but didn't refill it, silently nominating himself designated driver. One of them needed to be responsible, he mused. And Pam, her remembered, was a sloppy drunk. Cute, but sloppy. She met his eyes over the glass, and he felt the heat of the moment in his groin.

They ate their salads, both of them feeling better after their confessions, and their conversation turned to safer topics. Still, the awareness hummed between them now, stronger than it had ever been.

The pasta dishes they each ordered were excellent, and they shared a large slice of chocolate cake for dessert. He fought her for every rich morsel, and they laughed as their forks did battle on the plate.

She chewed the last hard-won bite in triumph.

"Mmmm," she said, sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes blissfully, her hand on her stomach. "That was an excellent meal."

Jim took the moment to admire her enticing cleavage, her chest rosy from the wine and, he hoped, from the rising heat between them. She opened her eyes and caught him looking, and he blushed like that high school boy he had once been, but he didn't look away. His eyes slowly rose to her beautiful face, the streaks in her hair glinting in the candlelight.

"Did I mention how much I like that dress," he said, refusing to succumb to his embarrassment, excited to let her know how she made him feel. It was freeing, after all these years of holding back.

"I was hoping you would," she was saying. "I wore it for you."

The waitress and her excellent timing graced them this time with the bill.

"It's still early," Jim said casually as they walked out of the restaurant. "You want to see a movie or something?" He allowed his hand to rest on her lower back as they walked out into the cool spring evening.

She shook her head. "We can't really talk in a theatre." Boldly, she slipped her hand in his, and he only hesitated a surprised second before lacing their fingers together.

"How about the lake path?" He suggested. "It's a nice evening." It was also conveniently located right across the street.

The sun had long set, and the still air was redolent with the scent of blossoming trees, the water lapping rhythmically against the rocky shore. They crossed the street and entered the paved path that wound around Scranton Lake for three and a half miles. Jim remembered that there was a secluded park bench halfway around the path, and most of the bicyclists and pedestrians had likely gone home, or so he hoped. He would have her completely to himself. His face stretched into a secretive grin.

"What's that impish smile for?" she asked, looking up at him in the light of one of the streetlamps lining the path. They strolled slowly together, Jim adjusting his gait to accommodate her much shorter legs. Their joined hands swung between them.

"I'm just really happy for some reason. And also, I was thinking that grown-up Jim could totally kick teenage Jim's ass right now."

She laughed, but she squeezed his hand encouragingly. "Counting your chickens, Halpert?" Funny how she always knew what he really meant, what he was thinking. Sometimes it was eerie, their nearly psychic connection. Eerie in a good way.

"No," he replied ruefully, "just hopeful. I've _always_ been hopeful, even when I left. I just crumpled that hope into a neat little ball and threw it into a dark corner for a while. But it was still there, niggling at me."

"Like a seed stuck between your teeth?"

"More like a splinter in my thumb," he countered.

"Or a pebble in your shoe."

"A hangnail, one that if you pulled on it, it would tear all the way to your elbow."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but laughed. "That's really gross."

"Not to mention very, very painful."

She stopped in the middle of the path and moved to stand in front of him, arching her neck to look up into his face. "I'm sorry I made you wait so long. I was stupid. And scared."

He reached up to touch her cheek with one long, graceful finger. She'd always admired his hands, imagined them touching her. "Scared of me?"

"Scared of this. Of _us_."

His lips quirked, but he was clearly pleased. "There's an _us_ now?"

"There's always been an _us_. Even when there wasn't an _us_, there was an _us_."

He shook his head in wonder, love shining brightly in his eyes. "What scares _me_, Beesly, is that I understand exactly what you're saying."

She stepped closer to him, still holding his hand, her other sliding up his arm. "Good," she said softly, "that will save me a lot of time explaining things."

He opened his hand to rest warmly on her cheek, the tips of his fingers slipping into her hair, pulling her gently toward him as he lowered his head. The first touch of his lips set her entire body trembling, her legs turning to Jell-0. Her small hand tightened on his arm for support as he moved his mouth sweetly over hers.

Their first kiss a year ago had been so sudden, so breathtakingly passionate that she'd felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. When he'd raised his head, he'd looked at her, wide-eyed and hopeful. But she'd lacked the courage to draw him back to her mouth and kiss him again like she'd longed to, or to profess her love as he'd been brave enough to do ten minutes before. She'd told herself that she was honoring her commitment to Roy, told Jim that she was still getting married. Stupidly, she'd let him go. She'd cried quietly into her pillow every night for a week after Jim had left, an oblivious Roy snoring beside her. Too late, she realized she couldn't possibly marry Roy after that devastating kiss with Jim, but she was too scared and embarrassed to tell Jim to come back from Stamford for her.

This time, _this_ kiss, was infinitely different than the first. Jim took his time, exploring her lips slowly, gently, though she could feel the tension in him as he struggled for restraint, could feel her own desire rising from her core. Tears formed behind her closed lids at the beauty of it, and when he pulled her to his body, her ragged gasp led him to deepen the kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth with hot, wet strokes.

She lost track of where their hands were, but she had vague sensations of his hair between her fingers, his large hands sliding up her torso beneath her sweater to rest tantalizingly below her breasts. She could even feel herself rising off the ground as he pulled her up on tiptoe, holding her in his strong arms, trying to get even closer, his lips never leaving hers. The need for oxygen was the only thing that parted them, but he took a breath and dove back in, this time nuzzling her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of delicate roses. For nearly four years, whenever he'd smelled roses, he thought of her. He kissed his way to her ear, felt her tremble when he breathed her name.

She turned her head and pulled his mouth back to hers, and their kisses became wild, their hands taking mindless liberties beneath suitjacket and cardigan. They were making out under a streetlamp on a public walkway, and for several passionate minutes, neither of them cared. Then, someone growled. And bit. But not in a sexy way at all.

"Hey!" exclaimed Jim, jumping back from Pam in pain.

"Hey, Pinky! Stop that!"

A small brown dog of indeterminate breed had latched onto Jim's pantleg, shaking its head violently and grazing his leg with its needlelike teeth. The dog's owner pulled hard on its leash. "Pinky, heel!"

Jim tried to gently shake off his attacker, even raising his leg up off the ground, but the little dog held fast, clamping down even harder. Finally, the owner bent and forcefully pulled the dog off him, tearing a sizeable chunk out of Jim's trousers in the process, while the animal snapped and snarled violently in protest.

"I'm so sorry, man. Let me pay for those pants." He held the angry dog in one hand, while reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

Jim had to back further away when the dog lunged at him. "No, don't worry about it. You, uh, just get that sweet little puppy home. I think it needs its kibble."

"Or a freakin' muzzle," muttered Pam beside him, but when he glanced her way, she was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Did she nip you?" asked the contrite owner.

Jim looked down at his leg in the dim light. "Nah, it's just a scratch. I'm not worried about it."

"Well, she does have her updated rabies shot. At least take my card if you change your mind. I'd be happy to pay if you need medical attention, or for those pants."

When Jim reached for the card, the dog jumped at him again, so the owner laid the card carefully on the path before backing away with the struggling dog still in his arms.

"Sorry again, man. Miss," he said, nodding to Pam. "Didn't mean to disturb your evening."

"Yeah, well she must have smelled my dog or something."

"That's probably it."

When man and dog were far enough away, Pam lost it. "Oh my God! You should have seen yourself, that little furball hanging off your leg while you hopped around!" She giggled with glee.

Jim squatted down to survey the damage. _Damn, this was my favorite suit. _His ankle bone might be bruised a little, but thankfully those tiny teeth hadn't been strong enough to get through his pants to break the skin. He wondered if he could get his mom to patch the hole. He pocketed the man's card, though he had no intention of using it.

Chuckling as he stood, Jim shook down his damaged pant leg. "Laugh it up, Beesly, but if I hadn't been in the way, your pretty little legs would look like chew toys right now."

"My hero," she said, her laughter dying down to an amused grin. He reached for her hand again, and they continued their walk in companionable silence, though much of the sexual tension had dissipated thanks to their near-death experience.

"_Canus interruptus,_" he said suddenly, and they both laughed again.

A thought occurred to her. "Hey, you don't have a dog."

"Nope. Just didn't want the guy to feel bad."

She squeezed his hand. "You're such a good person," she said sincerely, and Jim felt his face flush with pleasure.

"I'm more sorry we were interrupted than I am for my pants. Now that was a weird sentence."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sorry too. But hey, you're leading me to the Kissing Bench, so maybe we can pick up where we left off, safe under the trees, away from any other wild animals…"

"You know about the Kissing Bench? Boy, do I feel lame."

Pam grinned. "I grew up around here too, remember? Everybody whose anybody knows about the Kissing Bench."

"I didn't think nice girls like you knew."

"You're so sure I was a nice girl? You don't think I got a little action on _the Bench_?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I'd bet you _two_ Cokes you never even sat there with a boy."

"Two Cokes? Gee, I don't know whether to be complemented or insulted."

She said no more, and Jim's smile widened. "I'll meet you at the vending machines tomorrow afternoon to collect. And Pam…it was definitely a complement."

She moved closer to his side, leaning her head against his arm, enjoying the night and the novelty of simply being alone together. Several minutes later, they found themselves at a _Y,_ where the main path continued on around the lake and another path stretched up under the trees. But instead of the iconic park bench of their memories, they were greeted at the dead end with a bright streetlamp and a small Porta-Potty.

"Well, damn," Jim said, truly disappointed.

She laughed. "I guess it's true that all good things must end."

"On the bright side, your good reputation is destined to remain intact."

"Crap," she said, deadpan. "And here I was hoping…"

"You were, were you? Hmmm…let's see if I can remedy that." He dragged her with him off the path to a line of cherry trees, whose blossoms glowed faintly white in the moonlight. They ducked under the low-hanging limbs, and Jim gallantly took off his suit jacket and laid it on the tender young grass.

"My lady," he said, gesturing to the makeshift blanket.

"Jim, you'll ruin your jacket."

"That's okay. Now it'll match my pants again."

"If you're sure," she said, and sat down on the silk lining of his jacket, carefully arranging her A-line skirt around her bent knees. She slipped off her shoes and rested back on her hands. Jim joined her, stretching out his long legs with a contented sigh, liking the fact that their hips touched. The blossoms smelled heavenly, and he watched a couple fall into Pam's hair, unnoticed by her. It made him smile. He tried to make out her face, blurry now in the darkness, and his breath caught when he realized she was smiling back at him.

"Cold?" he asked, clearing his dry throat. "I'd offer you my jacket, but…"

"No. It's pretty warm for a May evening."

He shook his head sorrowfully. "It's finally happened. We're talking about the weather."

She sat up and placed her hand on his chest. He was sure she could feel his elevated heartbeat, and he drew a shaky breath that did nothing to slow it down. Suddenly, he felt the tickle of her hair beneath his chin as she leaned over and pressed her lips right above his second shirt button. _Did she just inhale? _He shivered with desire.

"Hmmm," she said, the sound reminiscent of her reaction to their delicious meal. He bent to kiss the top of her head. She tasted his throat and he swallowed convulsively, then she settled her mouth on his throbbing pulse.

He closed his eyes, letting her explore at her leisure, trying to hold still while she kissed along his jawline. Meanwhile, her hands roamed his chest, brushing her nails across his flat nipples, sensitive to her touch even through his shirt and undershirt. After another full minute of torture, she ran her tongue lightly over his bottom lip. With that, she had successfully found the end of his rope. Hands on either side of her face, he took her mouth at last, sensually punishing her for teasing him so mercilessly.

Passion flared between them and he let her push him down flat on his suit jacket, his head resting above it on bare grass. She moved her torso atop his chest, and he had never felt anything hotter than her breasts pressed against him, her hands buried in his hair, her tongue tangling with his until he thought he would die of need. When one curious hand drifted lower onto his stomach, he tensed in anticipation, wondering what she might dare to do next, at once hopeful and worried that she would touch him below his belt and he'd have to muster some semblance of control. The last thing he wanted was to revisit teenage Jim's short history of sexual embarrassment.

Sure enough, this bold Pam, this sexy, teasing Pam he was really starting to love, slid her dainty fingers underneath his waistband. He couldn't help the moan that escaped into her mouth, and he felt the answering chuckle of feminine empowerment vibrating in her throat.

"Pam," he managed as he turned his mouth away. "Jesus…what are you trying to do to me?" His hand came down to cover hers, stilling her seductive movements.

"If you have to ask, Halpert…" she said breathlessly.

He sat up, and she was forced to move to her side of the jacket. He ran shaky hands through his hair, his breath coming in labored pants.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked anxiously. He could hear the beginnings of tears in her voice, and he quickly turned back to her, taking her hands in his.

"No. No, of course not. On the contrary…" He laughed a little at himself, at this dream situation he couldn't believe he was living for real. "I just didn't expect this, didn't expect I'd get past first or second base with you tonight."

"Really? Why else did you make this little love nest under the cherry trees? I'm a hot-blooded woman, Jim. What did you think I'd expect? You can't lead a girl on this way then leave her hanging…"

He blamed his high state of arousal for his slowness of thought, but when he suddenly processed her ironic tone, he smiled sheepishly.

"All right, all right, I get it. I'm sounding like a woman in a Victorian novel. Seriously though, I just thought we'd make out a little. I didn't think—didn't dare hope—that you would want to—not on the dirty ground in the middle of a public park."

She put her hand on his thigh, felt it automatically tense at her touch.

"If we're going to be together, Jim, you have to take me off this pedestal you've put me on. I'm a real woman, and I know this might come as a shock, but I've actually had sex before."

"I really don't want to think about you having sex with anyone else, if you don't mind. God knows it's tormented me for years. As for the pedestal-sorry, babe, but your pedestal is a permanent structure in my mind. I know you're not perfect, but I've had a lot of time to get to know you, and you are, without a doubt, the closest to it of any woman I have ever known, and you deserve the utmost respect and love I can possible give you. So, forgive me if I want our first time to be somewhere where we don't have to worry about being interrupted, where it's clean and comfortable, where I don't have to fear that some animal is going to come out of nowhere and bite my toe off or uh, something."

His speech was met with silence, and Jim wondered if he'd offended her, or worse, if he'd totally ruined the evening.

"You know why men put women up on pedestals, don't you?" she asked in the stillness. He was relieved to hear that she sounded like her usual mischievous self.

"So they can look up their dresses," they said in unison. When they both laughed at the old joke, he knew everything was going to be okay. He leaned over and tenderly kissed her, sliding her mussed up hair behind her ear.

"Come home with me," he whispered against her lips, "where I can look up your dress in private."

"I would love to. But not tonight. We have to work tomorrow."

"What?"

She kissed him on the cheek, then moved to put on her shoes. "You make a good case for waiting for the right time and place. Our first time _should _be special, and I don't want to be worried about oversleeping the next day, because when I finally get you into bed, neither of us is going to be up to working in the morning." She grinned and got to her feet. "To be honest, I didn't intend to sleep with you tonight either, but you're such a good kisser, I got carried away…"

Jim lay back on the ground with a moan of frustration. "You're killin' me, Bees."

She chuckled, and he felt her hand take his. "Get up, Halpert. Take me home."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't want to compromise your maidenly virtue."

"Oh, you're hilarious."

He sat up again and she gave him both hands to help him to his feet. He picked up his suit jacket and shook it out, then slipped it back on. He had to duck beneath the branches, but they made it down the slight incline to the path without taking his eye out.

Her hand in his, they walked back toward the restaurant.

"For the record, I never made out on the Kissing Bench either," he confessed.

"Well…if we're being totally honest, _I _did. But I'll still buy you that Coke."

He laughed softly. "When did the whole world turn completely upside down?"

"When I fell in love with you," she said simply. She nearly stumbled at his sudden stop.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me," she said bashfully.

Speechless with joy, he enfolded her entire body in a passionate bear hug, his face in her hair, his eyes closed tight against the damn tears he couldn't seem to control around her. It was the first time she'd ever told him she returned his feelings, though of course he was pretty sure she did. Knowing it and hearing it were two entirely different things.

"I love you, Jim," she said into his shoulder. "So much."

"I love you too," he managed hoarsely. "God, you don't even know…"

She hugged him back nearly as hard as he was hugging her, her pulse loud in her ears, and they swayed there on the path while a pack of kids on bicycles road around them, cussing like sailors.

**A/N: Well? Was this okay? Please forgive me if I messed up any details from the show; I'm still learning. Also, I took a few liberties with Scranton's geography and setting. I plan to write at least one more chapter. I don't know if anyone out there will read this, but it's good to get it off my chest and out into the world. Thanks for reading! **


	2. Chapter 2: Jim

**A/N: Thank you to those who are reading this, and for the wonderful reviews! I decided to try my hand at first-person point of view, and for this chapter, I chose to use Jim's voice. I hope it sounds close to what you imagine he's thinking. This chapter is rated a heavy "T", in a similar vein as Chapter 1. **

**Chapter 2: Jim**

So after our date, I drove Pam home. I would have walked her to the door, but she was afraid that might be too dangerous. After an extended makeout session in my car in front of her apartment building, she was probably right, although, since I don't remember exactly how I got home, it was probably a wash danger-wise. That thing about staying up too late on a work night, then oversleeping the next day—well, that happened anyway, at least for me. I was so worked up I couldn't get to sleep at first, and once I did, I didn't hear my alarm go off so I was late for work anyway. I could have been up all night and late for work for a much more satisfying reason. Not sure I'll be listening to Beesly's advice again anytime soon.

Anyway, it was really weird at work. The whole office got to hear Karen chewing me out, got to see me stand there taking it because yeah, I totally deserved it. The worst thing in the world is knowing you made a girl cry. I began to mentally prepare myself for a hostile work environment.

As for Pam and me, the day after our first date, I experienced a new lesson in restraint, even surpassing how tempted I was on our first date. I guess I never really paid attention before to how much I looked over at her desk throughout the day until I really tried to stop myself. I thought it was bad before, when my eyes were drawn to her like a dog to its master. Now it was like the master had a big juicy steak that I had to wait for, and the smell was so enticing and the remembered taste of the last time I had steak was so vivid my mouth watered...but I digress.

Suffice it to say, now that I had been so close to Pam, had tasted that mouth, had mussed up that hair, it was a hundred times worse trying to focus on my work. Half my time that day was spent messaging her on my computer. Okay, two-thirds was probably a more accurate account. But to my credit, Pam started it.

_Are you okay? Karen seemed really upset._

_Understatement of the decade, Beesly._

_She keeps giving us both dirty looks. You think she might key my car or something?_

_I'm pretty sure I'm in more danger than you._

_You want me to walk you to your car later?_

_Better not. Her knife might still be out after she slashes my tires._

_I just feel so bad for her. I mean, I've had to watch her with you these past few months. It was hell._

_That's very flattering. Now you know how I've felt the last four years._

_Ok, you win the martyr prize._

_Yes!_

_You want to sneak away for lunch later?_

_That depends. You have a plan for escaping the doc crew?_

_Let me work on that. ;)_

I looked over at her, and her smile eerily matched the smiley face she sent me.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, after the lunch we never managed to get together, (except with the rest of the employees in the break room}, things got even more, shall we say, _challenging. _This time, the fault was totally mine.

_I can't stop thinking about how you taste._

I snuck a glance at her reaction, saw her tense and flush ten shades of red. She met my eyes and looked hastily back at her computer screen.

_Stop that. You'll give us both away._

_I don't care. Maybe keeping us a secret is a bad idea. I'm going a little crazy here, not being able to touch you._

_I know. I feel the same way._

When I looked up, she was looking at me too, and God how amazing she was, all rosy cheeked and bright-eyed, like we'd just gone a few rounds. She started typing furiously again.

_You know how everyone will be in our business all the time, and the doc crew will be on us like flies. It's just so new. I don't want to share you yet._

I sighed so audibly at her words that Dwight looked over at me curiously. I gave him my widest smile, just disturbing enough that he picked up his phone and swiveled his chair away from me.

_I'm experiencing an intense desire for jelly beans, _I wrote to her.

_No!_

_I think it will be just as suspicious if I don't hang out at your desk at least once or twice today. What's the matter, Beesly, afraid you can't handle it?_

She looked up and grinned at the challenge.

_Bring it on._

I got up and walked casually the few feet to reception, leaning on the counter as I was wont to do. I felt a few eyes on my back, including the cold daggers of Karen's, but being close to Pam was as necessary as breathing. And boy did I breathe her in. Roses and peppermint tea. I smiled, loving how she had to visibly suppress the pleased expression on her face, how she struggled and failed not to blush.

"Hey," I said softly. "How's it going?"

I didn't hold back showing my feelings—I couldn't help it. No one could see _my_ face at the moment anyway. I took a couple of jelly beans for show, and slipped them seductively between my lips. Her eyes widened, then she nearly laughed at my obvious ploy.

"Behave," she said.

"Meet me in the stairwell on your next break."

"That seems risky."

"Use the back stairwell and I'll take the elevator down a few minutes later, then I'll meet you on the first-floor landing." It really wasn't all that risky a plan. No one in _this _office ever used the stairs unless there was a fire or the elevator was on the fritz.

She looked worried though, but also intrigued, and, dare I say, _excited. _This was going to be fun. I grinned, tapped lightly on the counter, and took a handful of jelly beans for the road. "Later."

I attempted to do some work to distract myself, made a couple calls. Twenty minutes later, whilr the doc crew was filming Michael in his office, Pam got up and went toward the break room. I lost sight of her, but I could imagine that she looked around sneakily before quietly opening the stairwell doors. I waited five long minutes, then followed through the front entrance. Karen might have figured out what was going on, but I was pretty sure she wasn't spilling her guts to anyone, not after the morning's embarrassing scene.

The elevator seemed especially slow, but it was all worth it when I bounded up the stairs and immediately took Pam in my arms. She gave a little gasp of surprise as I fused my mouth to hers, using my momentum to press her against the wall. God, she tasted sweet. Things got hot and heavy pretty fast, and I finally dared to cup her breasts for the first time, turned on beyond belief when she moaned her encouragement. Also, her hands were on my ass.

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

A good several minutes of mindless groping and kissing, and I forced myself to pull away. Our loud panting echoed in the stairwell. Jesus. And I thought _not_ being in a relationship with her was tough.

"We can't…uh…be doing this every day," she said, reading my mind again.

"I agree. I don't know about you, but at this rate, there's no way I will ever get any work done."

"I think there's only one way to solve this problem. Come over to my place after work."

My eyes flew to hers and I grinned in triumph, while my thundering heart skipped a beat. "Tonight? On a school night? Mom and Dad insist I be in bed by ten."

She laughed breathlessly. "We just need to get this out of our systems, then the tension will be gone and—"

I was pushing her back against the wall before she could finish. "Let's get one thing straight, Beesly, you will _never_ be out of my system." I kissed her mercilessly to prove it.

My hand was under her shirt and hers were working my belt before loud voices emerged from the lobby, shaking us apart. Fortunately, we heard the elevator downstairs ding, and the talking faded away.

Our eyes met across the landing, and I shook my head. "Enough of this, Pam. You simply have to learn to control yourself at the office."

Her dazed eyes lit suddenly with amusement. "I know. I'm a regular nymphomaniac."

I frowned at all the images that word introduced into my already fevered brain. "That kind of talk definitely isn't helping anyone. But I think you're right—about seeing each other tonight, I mean, not that you're a nympho, of course, although I guess I've yet to find that out—"

"You're babbling, Jim." Did she say that or did I?

I ran my hands through my hair. Shit. I really needed to be put out of my misery.

"All right, get on out of here before I totally lose my capacity for speech. I will uh, need a few minutes." When her eyes flew to my crotch, I felt my face heat and saw hers flame as well. Yep, sweetheart, that's what you do to me, and I don't have a desk to hide it at the moment.

She was about to leave me with a kiss, but I put up my hands in self-defense. "You'd better not start that again, missy. Get back to work."

She chuckled. "Okay. But you might want to stop in the lobby bathroom. You look like hell, Halpert."

I noticed her hair clip was hanging by a thread and her blouse was untucked and wrinkly. "Back at ya, Beesly." She took a quick inventory with her hands and cussed under her breath before beginning her ascent up the stairs.

"You kiss your mom with that mouth?" I called softly after her.

"Nope, just my boyfriend."

I stared up at the stairs long after she disappeared, turning her last word over and over in my mind. _Boyfriend._ My eyes actually teared up a bit. This girl. She was turning me into a total wuss.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

At five o'clock, the doc crew began to pack up for the evening, and I found my chance to settle my bill with Brian. I stood close to him, casually mentioned the Sixers game, and slipped him four folded twenties when I thought no one was watching.

"Thanks again," I murmured. "Any fallout when you showed up with nothing?"

In a talking head segment earlier, I'd expressed to the camera my disappointment that Pam had begged off our date, that we both needed more time after the whole thing with Karen. We'd decided last night that this would be our official line today.

"Nope," Brian was saying. "Some disappointment, but what can ya do? I got some good news for you though. We're taking off two months for the summer, so have at it." He nodded meaningfully toward Pam, who was closing down her computer and straightening her desk. I knew she was secretly stalling so she could walk out with me. We'd both done that for the past four years, though now we could actually admit it.

"You're kidding?" I said to Brian. "That is totally good news! Thanks!" I reached out and shook his hand. "Have a good summer, man."

Brian grinned. "I'm sure we both will." He smiled at Pam and waved, before following the rest of his crew out the door.

"Good night, guys!" Pam called.

I all but swaggered to Pam's desk, the bearer of great tidings.

"What was that all about?" she whispered, nodding to various coworkers as they walked past on their way out. Karen didn't look at either one of us, and had I known that was the last time I would see her at the office, I would have taken her aside and apologized again, without anyone overhearing.

I filled Pam in, enjoyed the shared relief that at least we wouldn't have to dodge cameras for a couple months.

After everyone left, I hung back with Pam; we had plans to make. I stood before her desk, reached across for her hands.

"Now…about tonight…"

She shyly met my eyes, blushed in shared remembrance of our recent interludes.

"Well, would you like to come over to my place? I could cook…"

I raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"What? I can cook."

I had never heard anything about her cooking. At office potlucks and parties over the years, it seemed like she always brought baked goods, and they were delicious, but I never really thought about whether she was a good cook or not. Now, looking at Roy, he didn't seem like he was starving at all when they were living together. Or maybe that was just the beer. But going to her apartment wasn't about the food.

"Maybe you could cook at my place," I offered.

She looked confused, and maybe a little hurt. "You don't like my apartment?"

"No, it's not that; I've never even seen your new apartment. It's more about…" I took a deep breath. "Okay, to be totally honest, well, it's…Roy."

"Roy? Roy and I are over, you believe that don't you?" She grasped my hands almost painfully.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. It's not that. It's just that...you slept there with him. You know?"

I begged her with my eyes to understand. I'd watched her for years with that man, imagined them together, even though I didn't want to. But hell, they were right in my face many days at work. The last thing I wanted was to make love to Pam in the same bed where she'd had sex with Roy. She cast her eyes down. I hoped I hadn't embarrassed her.

"I get it," she whispered. "But you and Karen…at your house too, right?"

"No," I said easily. "Only at her hotel, and uh, then at her new place." I reached out and lifted her chin so she would look at me. Her eyes were watery, but she smiled.

"Then I guess we should stop at the grocery store on our way to your place."

I grinned. Then I remembered I hadn't changed my sheets in about two weeks.

Dammit.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Pam's tacos were pretty good. Not as good as my mom's, but I would never in a million years tell her that. Some of my past idiocy notwithstanding, I wasn't totally stupid. I was extremely nervous about her being there, about what this night meant, so I think I ate about ten tacos. Two side-effects from that: heartburn and Pam's extremely happy expression. The Tums I took in the bathroom were a small price to pay.

After dinner, we settled on my couch. She kicked off her shoes like she had last night, making herself at home. At _my_ home. It was so surreal having her to myself in my house. I reached for her hand, just because I could. I played with her fingers, experimented with lacing my much larger hand with her smaller one, held our palms together to marvel at the size difference. Her palms were slightly moist, but then, so were mine. She cleared her throat nervously.

"So, it's cool that you got your old house back. But what happened to your roommate?"

I guess we were starting out slow tonight. I could do slow. I'd done glacially slow for years.

"Oh, yeah. Well, lucky for me, Mark broke up with his girlfriend, who'd moved in after I went to Stamford. I was only back a month before Mark moved back in with his parents. Seems that his job at Best Buy wasn't paying the bills." That, and his gambling, beer and pot habits, but I didn't mention that.

"Wow, poor Mark. So you're stuck with paying all the rent here?"  
I shrugged. "It hasn't been that bad. I just stopped ordering pizza so much. You know, Hot Pockets are just as nutritious, and economical."

She laughed. "Glad you haven't had to sacrifice too much."

"Nope." And there ended that exciting line of conversation. I guess we were both freaking out a little. It's always scary when you're about to get everything you've ever wanted.

I looked over at her, sitting so far away on the next couch cushion. "Come here," I said softly.

I reached for her waist, pulled her down onto the couch so she was lying on her back. Then, I covered her body with mine, relishing the feeling of possessiveness, of male domination. Was that weird, or sick? I'd also done that earlier in the stairwell, when I nearly took her against the wall, and I don't recall being that aggressive with other women. Pam's petite frame just made me feel so…manly. She seemed to like what I was doing, however; bending her knees so that she was cradling me as close as we could be with all our clothes on. I gave her a tentative kiss.

"Am I too heavy?" I asked near her ear, reveling in the way she shivered.

"Yes…but I like it." I looked at her to see her smiling mischievously, before raising her hips in such a way that my head began to spin and I'm pretty sure I moaned aloud. Who was dominating whom after all? I was putty in her hands—and oh, what that woman's hands could do to me.

We made out until I could barely think straight, until I was shaking all over and my heart was pounding so hard, I felt like a drunken marathon runner. But the couch was just too small for all I wanted to do with her, so I sat up, stood for a minute on rubbery legs. I stared at her flushed face, at her breasts that rose and fell so rapidly, a light sheen of sweat on her brow and cheeks. It was amazing to see at last that she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

In a move that seems a little cheesy now, I bent and picked her up into my arms and carried her upstairs to my bedroom, stopping along the way to kiss her, her small arms wrapped around my neck, her eyes filled with complete trust, and yes, love. When she caught sight of my newly turned down bed, she had the audacity to laugh at my flowered sheets.

While she had been cooking earlier, I'd run upstairs and thrown any clothes I'd found on the floor or scattered around the room into the hamper, mindless of whether they were clean or dirty. Like God on Judgement Day, I would sort them out later. My only alternate set of sheets were castoffs from my mom, ones that she'd given me when I'd first moved out on my own. It was a little embarrassing, and not at all in keeping with the smooth bachelor I was hoping to convey, but at least they were clean.

"You don't like my sheets? You're lucky I had these."

"They're very pretty," she said, with mock contriteness. "It takes a real man to sleep between giant cabbage roses."

For that, I seriously considered tossing her on the bed, swinging her teasingly as if I would do just that. She squealed gratifyingly, and laughed in relief when I finally set her down gently amongst the flowers. I kissed her smiling lips.

I watched her face as I unbuttoned my work shirt a few more buttons at the top, then at my wrists, before pulling it and my undershirt off over my head in one efficient movement. I'd like to think she was impressed by what she saw. I'm by no means ripped, but a hundred crunches every day, and playing basketball twice a week kept me in pretty good shape, despite all the Hot Pockets and Ramen noodles.

Soon, I got us both naked, and I definitely liked what _I _saw. She looked even better than she had in my dreams, and that's saying something. And the way her skin felt, and smelled, and tasted…I have no words. Since I'm a gentleman, I won't go into any graphic details of what we did that night, and the next morning, and in the shower, but I will say that she blew my mind, she blew my soul, she blew my-well, you get the idea. I have never felt so connected to anyone before, never actually made love in the truest sense of the word—I know that now. I'm confident enough in my masculinity to admit there were some tears, before, in the middle of things, and certainly afterwards, on both our parts. It was beautiful; it was life changing; it was perfect.

In the afterglow of the first time, when I'd recovered the ability to speak, when she lay snuggled against my sweaty body, her head on my chest in the darkness, I was relieved to find that we were comfortable enough to slip easily back into our usual banter. I could have gone the rest of my life, unaware of what making love to her felt like, but I would only have lived half a life without her friendship.

"My bed is much bigger," she commented. I admit that a double bed was just barely big enough for my long frame alone, but I liked the closeness it imposed on us.

"I find it kinda cozy," I replied, kissing her damp brow. "And besides, if we'd gone to your place, I would have had to mark my territory everywhere, and that would have been really disgusting."

I felt the vibration of her laughter clear to my toes. "So, then what you're saying is that if I need to go to the bathroom, I should feel free to stake my own claim and not bother getting out of _this_ bed?"

"I told you Karen and I never—"

"I know, and I believe you. But don't tell me you haven't brought other women up here, Halpert, because that I _won'_t believe."

I was silent for a moment. I was no monk, though since I'd met Pam I admit any woman I had slept with was just to forget about her, and because of that, no relationship had lasted more than a couple of months before I could no longer stand lying to myself. It only took looking up from my desk at work to see where I really wanted to be. In high school and college, before Pam, I had certainly sewn enough oats to keep the Quaker company in business, and I wasn't exactly proud of that, but I wasn't going to apologize either. I was young and single, and the women had been willing. I didn't know then that I was trying to fill a void in my life that had been empty until I met her.

"Are you wanting an exact number, Beesly, or just a general accounting?"

"I don't need numbers; I just want you to admit your hypocrisy in refusing to sleep at my place."

"All right, all right. I admit there are definitely caveman levels of double standard here, but in my defense, I wasn't in love with any of them, not like you loved Roy. I could even stand the idea of you having a revolving door on your bedroom, if I knew you didn't love any of them. But I know you must have loved Roy. You aren't the kind of woman who would be engaged to a man for three years and not love him, and then take him back again. I believe he loved you too, despite treating you like crap. I mean, who wouldn't? Still, you made love to him in that bed, and I'd rather not be a part of any residual feelings attached to it."

"Okay," she said, to my long-winded speech.

We were both silent in the wake of it, and I thought back on the words that had coming pouring out of my mouth unchecked.

"Hey, I didn't mean that about the revolving door, or to imply that you were anything close to being like me."

I felt her turn her head and plant a kiss on my chest. "I know what you meant."

"Seriously? I wasn't very diplomatic."

She laughed. "This isn't the UN, Jim. I'm a big girl, I can take it; and I _did_ ask. It doesn't matter who either of us was with before now. I'm trying to tell you that the bed doesn't matter; it's who you're in it with." She laughed suddenly. "Am I weird to think that could be on a Hallmark card?"

"'Hallmark: The Slut Shaming Collection,'" I added drolly. "'When you care enough to judge the very best.'"

"Angela has a whole box in her desk drawer. She's giving them out on Valentine's Day." _Aw, that's my girl,_ I thought, trying not to laugh.

"The day _after _Valentine's Day," I clarified.

"And to Meredith every Monday morning."

"Wow, Beesly. Or should I say, **_me_**_-ow_."

"Oh, don't worry; I'm sure I'll be getting one tomorrow."

"Me too," I said. "Or at least I'm hoping. I'm counting on you to help me earn it."

A beat later, and we were both laughing. There it was, that crazy, off-the-wall sense of humor that few would get, except us. It had brought us together, had always connected us, even over the long separations.

"I know it's the past," she continued, more seriously, "but I want you to know _my_ number, because it's important that you understand what this means for me—what _you_ mean to me. Until ten minutes ago, it had been _one_. I'd been with Roy for nine years, exclusively. It was about eight years too long."

I wasn't surprised. I knew they'd started dating in high school. I was sorry that she had stayed in that unhappy relationship all these years—especially when at least four of them could have been with me.

"Hey, let's stop talking about the past," I said, pulling her on top of me. I wanted her again, and we'd already wasted too much time with fear and regrets. "I love you, and you are all I want, all I've _ever_ wanted."

Her hand rested on my cheek, her soft hair falling around my face. "I love you too," she whispered, and she found my mouth.

All the years of longing, of friendship, of heartbreak, of being so close, yet miles apart, had all been worth hearing her say those words.

As she began to move above me, I couldn't resist saying: "Tomorrow, I'm buying us a new bed."

"Well, in that case, you should know…I kept my old couch when I moved out of Roy's place, but I've had my eye on a new one at Ikea." I heard the mischief in her voice. She was totally messing with me.

"Oh yuck, Beesly." I said, playing along, but then I remembered what Katy and I had done on _my_ couch. "That's fair," I amended.

"I guess I'll need a new carpet too. And a kitchen countertop. Oh, and—"

I growled before taking her off guard and flipping her over onto her back, effectively cutting off her sass and any more disturbing mental pictures. Her breathless laughter soon turned to passionate moans.

I did that.

So suck it, Roy Anderson.

**A/N: So, I decided to extend this fic by one more chapter to include Pam's pov. I hope you don't mind. I'm having a lot of fun with this. If you are too, I would love to hear exactly what you think in specific detail, using long, flowery prose ****;)****. And thank you to reader "jamtogether" for correcting me on Jim's car. It's those kinds of small details I'm still learning, so I appreciate any help I can get. Chapter 3 is coming soon! Hope to see you then.**


	3. Chapter 3: Pam

**A/N: Well, here is my last chapter, written mainly from Pam's pov. I've had fun writing for this fandom, and I hope you've enjoyed reading this fic. Please note, this chapter has a soft "M" rating. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 3: Pam**

When I opened my eyes the next morning, and the sun cast a rosy glow through Jim's closed white mini-blinds, I felt a brief moment of disorientation. It was very quiet, unlike my apartment complex in the morning, except for the deep breathing of the man spooning me, his strong arms wrapped around my waist. His lightly furred chest against my back was hot and I knew we were both a little sweaty, but God, did it feel heavenly. I closed my eyes again, taking a moment to revel in the feel of him so close to me; the sexy, musky scent of his skin, the way his breath stirred my hair, his hairy legs entangled with mine. A wave of love washed over me, and I teared up, maybe because the reality of where I was and who I was with finally began to sink in.

Since the day of Jim's job interview in New York, I'd been on an emotional roller coaster. I'd gone from abject fear that I was going to lose him once and for all to unbelievable joy that he'd chosen me, that he still loved me—all in the course of one day. Then followed the passion of the last few days. I'd never felt this kind of hunger for someone, this feeling of being out of control, of having every thought and breath consumed by one person. Not even in the beginning of our relationship did I ever have this with Roy. It still makes me shudder, to think I would have settled for him, when a man like Jim was just five feet away.

There was a subtle stirring behind me.

"Good morning," he breathed.

"Morning."

I wondered if this was going to be awkward or weird, but then I remembered this was Jim.

"I can't believe this is real," he said, his sleep roughened voice making me hotter. "I mean, I can feel you…" His hands cupped my breasts, and I grinned and blushed to feel a distinct hardness pressing insistently against my left butt cheek. "And I can smell you…" He inhaled a whiff of my hair, making me shiver. "And I can see you…" He rolled me over into his arms then, his eyes dark and heavy lidded as they met mine. "Hey there," he said, and his beautiful smile was slow and sexy. "And I can taste you…" he finished in a whisper, before lazily kissing me, bringing up my pulse rate. "Yep, my senses are telling me this is definitely real."

"Oh, it's real, all right, Halpert. I don't think either of us had the imagination to dream this up."

I smiled, and reached up to trace the creases in his cheeks, then his full lips, swollen from a night of kisses.

"You may be right," he said, his thumbs sliding over my nipples, "I imagined you here with me a million times, in a million different ways, and I might have gotten pretty close in my mind of how good it would be, but I gotta say, you've gone above and beyond."

"Thank you," I said primly, while my hands slid down to his stomach. We watched each other above the covers as our hands played below, and it became an unspoken contest to see who could make the other close their eyes involuntarily in ecstasy. I had just gripped him in my hand, stroking him languidly, when Jim's clock radio alarm startled us from my near victory.

Our hands stilled. "Shit!" we both exclaimed.

We'd totally forgotten it was Friday, and, according to the digital clock, we had about an hour to get ready and drive to work. I hadn't brought a change of clothes, except a spare pair of panties I'd impulsively dropped into my purse yesterday morning. I mean, a girl never knows…

With a groan that held two distinct meanings, Jim reached over me to the nightstand and slammed the _alarm off_ button. I wrapped myself around him, refusing to admit reality into our bubble of fantasy. He hugged me back, groaning again.

"This really sucks," he said.

"Yep."

"We could play hookey," he ventured seductively, his hands roaming up and down my back, his mouth pressing against my neck, the stubble on his cheeks re-igniting my desire.

"And that wouldn't look suspicious at all. You publicly break up with Karen, then you and I don't show up for work the next day…"

I could feel his smile. "Well, for once the gossip about us would be true."

"And are you ready for the doc crew to be camped outside our doors, following us around outside the office every day, going on our dates? The lecherous looks from our co-workers…_Michael?_"

He tensed up at that, gave a little shudder. "Yeah, good point."

We both sighed, holding each other, procrastinating as the minutes ticked by.

"Okay, you can have the shower first," he offered in resignation. "I'll go put the coffee on."

I pulled back slightly, brushing his sexy, messy hair from out of his eyes. He was so unbelievably adorable, though his morning beard gave an edge to his boyish face that I found infinitely attractive. I couldn't resist kissing those beautiful lips. He kissed me back immediately, and I could feel the love there, the shared longing to stay like this forever. Jim was the one to break away, a stronger will than mine, apparently. He pressed his forehead to mine, our harsh breathing filling his bedroom.

"You're playing with fire here Beesly. Your only escape is the shower."

"Okay. Go already." I put my hands on his chest to push him gently away.

He didn't stir at first, and I found myself suddenly kissed within an inch of my life. Leaving me breathless and hopelessly turned on, he hopped out of bed while I could only stare at his cute behind and strong back. He found his briefs and t-shirt from the night before, and hastily put them on. Just before he left the room, he paused at the door and smiled almost shyly—one of those heart-melting smiles that I'd fallen in love with years ago.

"I love you," he said simply, "and I'm so incredibly glad you're here."

I smiled, feeling my eyes water, my throat tight. "I love you too."

"Oh, and Pam…don't use all the hot water," he said, deadpan, in the same tone he'd just used to profess his love.

I threw a pillow at him, but he dodged it easily, and I heard him laughing on the way down the stairs.

I decided not to wash my hair, since a quick scan/snoop in his bathroom cupboards revealed no hair dryer. My hair takes forever to dry, and I didn't love the idea of going to work with wet hair, so I dug a scunci out of my purse and tied my hair up in a messy bun. I'd have to wear the same clothes, but I didn't figure anyone would notice since my work clothes all looked about the same anyway. Kelly might though, and I vowed I would avoid her and her speculative gaze. I was pondering these things while I showered, respectfully keeping the water tepid, when the glass shower door cracked open, and Jim's face appeared.

"Hey! Ocupado, buster!" I said over my shoulder.

"Uhh…I was wondering if you uh, need anything."

"Well, let's see here…I've got this fancy men's bodywash, and some matching shaving cream, a disposable razor that's seen better days—do you shave in the shower?"

"Yeah. Saves time."

But he wasn't really paying much attention to what I was saying. I'd turned to face him, and Jim's eyes roamed up and down my body, making me feel much hotter than the water that was sliding down my back.

"Hmm, well unless you have some girlier scented things, I'm fine, but I could actually use a fresh razor—doesn't matter if it's not pink."

He grinned. "Sure. One sec."

He closed the glass door and I heard him rummaging in a drawer. The door opened again, and he slipped me a new blue razor.

"Here ya go. So, uh, whatcha planning on shaving?" he asked with obvious prurient interest.

I felt his eyes on my crotch—which I kept neatly trimmed, though not bare—and my legs, which were still relatively smooth, though now were feeling decidedly weak.

"Arm pits, if you must know."

"Can I watch?" For just a split second I thought he was serious, but then his smile broke and he laughed at my horrified expression.

"You're a sick, sick man, Jim Halpert. Now stop gawking and get your ass in here."

"Really?" he asked eagerly.

"Like you weren't wrangling for an invitation. But no funny business, or we'll be late for work. We're just sharing for efficiency's sake."

He didn't quite hide his smirk, and I knew it was a mistake the moment he drew back to strip off his t-shirt and briefs. He opened the door wide enough to join me inside, and the tiled shower cubicle seemed suddenly very, very small.

As the spray hit him, he shivered dramatically. "Jeeze, woman, crank up the hot water!"

"I was trying to be considerate." I turned to do as he asked, but no sooner had the water heated up, that Jim's wet, aroused body was pressing against my back.

"Mmmm, that's much better," he said, his deep voice rumbling down my spine. I laid my head back against his chest, closing my eyes as his strong arms wrapped around me, the hot water flowing over us. He kissed my neck, holding me close. When he whispered my name in my ear, I grabbed his arms to stay upright.

After a moment of pure bliss, he reached for the shelf and grabbed the bodywash.

"Open your hand," he murmured hoarsely.

I complied, and he poured a good amount of liquid into my palm. Immediately, the scent of Jim filled the air, and I inhaled with a smile. This was the scent I could smell only when I stood very close to him at the office, tantalizing me over the years; now I knew why he smelled that way all over. His hand covered mine, and he began using my own hand to move over my body, the soap sudsing up with the slow friction. I moaned softly as my own hand washed my breasts, guided by his. His other hand slid down my stomach, then lower—not a stretch for his long arm. His fingers massaged, slipped inside, and made my legs buckle beneath me.

"Oh, God…Jim…"

A few moments later, and I was trembling in his arms, crying out in release.

"That was…definitely…funny business," I said shakily.

His smug chuckle almost took me over the edge again. I turned in his arms, pulled his mouth down to mine, then, my hands began to wander. I shared the soap on my body with his, lathering him up before I grasped him firmly. He gave a muffled curse against my mouth as I slid up and down his length, picking up where we'd left off earlier in bed.

"All right, enough of that," he said tightly, and before I could reply, he'd picked me up, pinned my back gently against the tile wall, and brought my legs up for me to lock around his waist. With one deft dip of his hips, he entered me, both of us gasping at the pure pleasure of it. We both stilled for a moment, trying in vain to catch our breath, as he stabilized our position with his feet and hands. Then, gripping my hips, he moved my body up and down on his, rising to meet me at the same time with increasing passion.

The steam drifted around us as my back brushed against the warm tile, a low grunt emitting from his mouth each time I slid down upon him. It was the singular most sensual moment of my life, when I came again just as he lost his own control, our shouts of ecstasy echoed above the sound of spraying water. We stayed like that, still joined, I don't know how long. My arms were still twined around his neck, and I breathed heavily into the dampness of his shoulder.

"Your legs and back must be killing you," I said softly. "You should probably let me down before you fall."

His laugh came from low in his throat. "You're a feather, Beesly…but I should probably work on those lunges, for next time." He withdrew from my body and set me on my feet, and I immediately hugged him tightly, my face in the wet crook of his neck. I felt his lips press tenderly against the top of my head, my vision blurring as I my love for him nearly overwhelmed me.

"I love you," we said at the same time. I felt his smile, and I know he had to have felt mine against his skin.

"We are so going to be late," he said, but he didn't sound sorry. "Can I borrow your razor?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the end, Jim was on time, and I was late. We decided it would just look better than both of us being late, so I left him yelping in the shower as the water turned cold, so that he could get ready without any more _distractions._ I drove home and dried my hair, which had gotten wet despite my best intentions. (If you had been in the shower with Jim Halpert, you would totally understand.) I also changed my clothes for good measure. On the way to work, I sipped the coffee Jim had made, still fairly warm in the to-go mug I'd borrowed from his house. I caught occasional whiffs of myself—I smelled like Jim. It made me smile so wide that my cheeks hurt.

Twenty minutes late to the office, and no one seemed to notice. Michael wasn't even there yet, and the doc crew were filming a fight between Kelly and Ryan in the Annex. Ryan had apparently snagged the job at Corporate. As I put away my purse and sat down, Jim was just coming from the breakroom with a steaming cup of coffee. He had two small, blood-dotted pieces of toilet paper stuck to his face that he must have forgotten about.

He bypassed his desk and came to Reception, handed me the cup.

"Hey," he said, his eyes warm.

"Hey."

I felt my face flush as images of our recent intimacies flashed in my brain. As if reading my mind, his eyes darkened and his grin widened. Suddenly breathless, my next words came out much sexier than I'd intended: "You uh, have something on your face."

He didn't seem to understand what I said at first. Then it dawned. "Oh!" His hand came up to a cut, came away with one piece of white paper. I had to direct him with my eyes to the second cut on his jawline before he found it.

"A cold shower isn't conducive to a good shave," he explained, his lips flirting with a smile.

"Sorry," I murmured.

"It was totally worth it…and much needed."

I covered my embarrassment with a sip of hot coffee. I grimaced; too much sugar.

"That was originally intended for me," he explained, "but you look like you needed it more."

"Gee, thanks."

"Rough night?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I like it a little rough."

"Beesly!" he exclaimed under his breath.

His eyes widened, and he glanced nervously around, but no one was paying attention. They were used to Pam Pong.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, just as Michael came in. Not wanting to be spotlighted by our boss, Jim hustled back to his desk. The usually craziness of the day ensued, and except for a few stolen kisses in the stairwell, we were on our best behavior.

And so began the new normal of our days—and by normal, I mean spectacular. Things were so incredible it was hard to stop smiling. We were amazed no one could see right through us. Our whole world had changed, but life went on as usual with everyone else in the office.

True to his word, Jim bought us a new queen-sized bed for his house, and I spent most nights there. My apartment was small and the neighbors were loud, and the ghost of Roy still haunted it, at least according to Jim. We fell into our old banter at work, and Karen's specter soon faded there for me too. We pranked Dwight, tried to keep Michael under control, and generally went about our business. But the nights…I can't even tell you how wonderful the nights were.

About a week after our first date, Jim went out for a sandwich run at lunch. He was gone a whole hour. Over our cheesesteaks in the breakroom, he could barely meet my eyes. His color was heightened, and he seemed almost giddy as he did an exaggerated impression of the old man behind the counter of the sandwich shop. Something was definitely up.

"Hey," I said, risking touching his restless hand on the table. "What's going on with you?"

Jim looked down at my hand, but didn't move his own away. Almost sheepishly, he looked into my eyes. "Sorry. I—"

He hesitated, glancing meaningfully over at Phyllis and Stanley at the next table, then at the film crew.

"I'll tell you later."

"Ok." But red flags and alarm bells invaded my thoughts for the rest of the day.

As we walked to the parking lot together after work (we'd be meeting at his place later), I mentioned his weird behavior at lunch.

"So, spill," I prompted, knowing that we were both safely mic-free.

"It was nothing, really. I'm just so…_happy_. It makes me feel a little crazed sometimes, like I'm bouncing off the walls. Keeping this huge secret is fun, but not so fun when all I want to do is grab you and kiss the hell out of you every time I see you."

I smiled as we stopped by my car. "I know what you mean. Why don't you pick up Chinese food on your way home. Then, I'll think of something to help manage your craziness."

He took my car keys from my hand and opened the door for me. I sat inside, and when he leaned down to hand me the keys, for a moment, my heart stopped. He was looking at me like he used to sometimes, when I had hoped and prayed he had been about to confess his love, but something had held him back. And just like all those past times, he chickened out.

"Moo-shu pork or chow mein?" he asked.

And like those other times, I smiled and hid my disappointment, though this time I had no idea what I was disappointed about; it was just a feeling.

"Moo-shu, but chicken this time. I'm feeling daring tonight."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yep."

"Sounds like a challenge to me, Beesly."

"It is, Halpert. Surprise me."

At that, he grinned, and I saw the tension leave his face. "Oh, I plan to. Now let me get dinner so I can get on with the surprising."

I smiled. "Yes, sir."

When my arms and legs were safely inside the car, he shut the door. _I love you, _ I mouthed through the closed window.

He grabbed his heart dramatically. _I love you too._

There was no need really for him to find ways to surprise me. It felt like a surprise every time he said that, every time he kissed me—my heart always jumped happily in my chest. I don't think that will ever get old.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Epilogue: Jim**

It took me five minutes to get the cheesesteaks for lunch. It took me another forty-five to pick out Pam's engagement ring at the jewelry store next door to our favorite sandwich shop. That's why I'd professed a sudden craving for cheesesteaks. Yes, it was probably too soon to ask her, but then again, I'd been waiting for years for this woman, and for us to finally get our timing right seemed like kismet, or destiny or something. Anyway, I was finally going with my heart again, and for the first time in our relationship, doing that was actually working out.

I really wanted to give it to her that night, because there was no way I would ever be more certain of anything. As for Pam's feelings on marriage, I was feeling a little unsure; we hadn't really talked about it. I mean, I could understand if she wanted to wait and see what this really was, and it wasn't like her last engagement went well, and it was literally days ago that I was with someone else. Yeah, I was definitely spiraling.

As worked up about this as I was on the inside, it's no wonder Pam was worried. I must have seemed like a real flake when I got back with lunch. The thought that she had doubts about _my_ feelings just made things worse. So, on my way to get the moo-shu chicken, I took a few deep breaths and told myself to calm down. She was worth waiting for, and I wanted her to be as sure of me as I was of her. But honestly, I really wanted to tie things up as soon as possible.

I began imagining all kinds of cheesy scenarios. The ring in the champagne glass. The jumbo-tron at a Sixers game. A weekend trip to the ocean, after we'd made love on the beach. On Valentine's Day. Those were all tried and true ideas, but somehow none of them seemed perfect enough. And so I resolved to bide my time, let my heart lead me one more time. It wasn't going to be the place that made it perfect; it would be the girl. When and where it happened, it would feel like the biggest thing in the world.

Yep, I know what you're thinking.

That's what she said.

**THE END**

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please take a minute and let me know what you think. Are you interested in reading more from me in this fandom? Also, if you like my writing, I have written lots of other stories for shows like "The Mentalist," "Moonlight," "Star Wars," "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," "Sleepy Hollow," and others. I'd love for you to check them out.**


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